Greggary Peccary Gets Philosophical

Hello Teenage America. This is Greggary Peccary, the Trendmonger (tm) and today's blog was supposed to be tips on shoe shopping. Well, since I had such an overwhelming response at the idea of shoe shopping tips, I'll give a few out to those who were so adamant about them. Here they are:

1. Buy shoes that fit.
2. Buy shoes you like.
3. Buy shoes you can afford.

No, no, we here at "Today Crumbles Away" have many purposes as far as this blog goes. Kevin Pearson tends to ramble about personal issues, and the larger ramifications of the different overriding concepts of his life. Moltov Cocktail tends to blather on and on about different pop culture events, or vague concepts. I tend to issue stupid and farcical mumblings that purport to be funny, or at least smile worthy. This variety of approaches is nice, and it helps delineate our different personalities well. What happens, however, when I, Greggary Peccary, formerly the Greatest Living Human (overtaken by the new Fat Baby of Russia, leaving me in contemptible second place) is in a different mood than is normally associated with the trendmonger columns? The two I have posted have been long, paranoid, potentially offensive, vaguely political yet ignorant of the political basics. I vote Democrat because the Republicans bug me. Just like moving firewood.

Okay no more stupid jokes. This is serious. The trends can wait: I know, I know, you, my personal readership need to know what to follow, what to believe, who to trust, and where to eat. I think that can wait another day, don't you? I thought so.

Am I going to get personal here? Will I go into detail about the faults of my personality, my fears, my angers, my neurosis, and my paranoia? My fears are simple:

1. Being Alone Forever
2. Having No Money To Survive
3. Dying Of A Horrible Disease
4. Prison
5. Doing Something To Harm Someone Permanently.
6. Doing Nothing With My Life.

I mean, there are many different levels and fears that branch off from those six base fears. But they underline much of my personality. I am much of a product of my generation in that I am driven by my fears, and almost defined by them. I am also of the generation that generally believes that they are more important, smarter, or more creative than we actually are. I ended that last sentence with a preposition. I can't think of another way to write it. See, there's another one. Life is hard.

I want to be creative. I want to write great stories, beautiful poems, wonderful, diverse, and compassionate music. I want it to touch the people I know and love. Is this egotistical? Of course it is, but since I'm not a religious man, and don't believe in an afterlife, it is my attempt to become immortal. Isn't heaven an ego stroke any ways? You're rewarded for your years of good work by eternal happiness. You supress all your negative urges until you die, and are rewarded. Isn't that greedy, egostical? Egotistical might not be the best word: perhaps greedy works best.

Immortality is impossible, from my perspective. There is no heaven, no hell. Everything will disappear. When the last human being dies, and the books crumble into dust, and the computers malfunction and melt down, who will remember Shakespeare? Nobody. The only thing that could potentially live on are the radio and television signals that get shot into space, as they can go for millions and millions of miles, but eventually they will hit something, and reflect. Eventually, over billions of years, these signals will be no more.

Of course, we could have an "Einstein" view of things, which is basically that matter cannot be created or destroyed. So when I die, and my body rots, my nutrients, my energy, will become one with the earth, and in this way I will be immortal. Sorry if that doesn't really give me much comfort: the idea of living on in the belly of a million worms, which in turn feed a million birds, is too abstract to be a comfort. What do I care that my matter survives? What makes us human is not our matter but our conciousness. Where does that go when the body rots? Does it go into the belly of worms? Is it reborn in a new creature, be it man, beast, or plant? Or does it echo around the universe, exploring the places it wants to go, viewing the nebula's, stars, and galaxies of the infinite universe? This last option comforts me the most, but it's also the least likely.

Sorry about that kids. Didn't mean to depress yourself (or myself!). Next time I will have some catty things to say about celebrities and Russia.